picture you with a woman of taste and character to match your financial assets.” Carmen Ruiz spoke with Jerry in the discovery room of her Mill Hill office. They sat on streamlined chairs with sloped backs and hard cushions. Video equipment waited in the corner, while Wynton Marsalis played on the stereo. Cool horns blended with Trenton’s brawling daytime traffic.
Jerry took a breath, submitting himself to the interview process. He’d discovered Ms. Ruiz’s matching service in the yellow pages. He noticed her accent over the phone, but in person, he thought that she dressed like a former first lady. Her short black hair shaped her head, and she wore a deep red suit with a contrasting black collar. A diamond stickpin of a heart glimmered upon her chest.
“ May I call you by your first name?” She asked.
“ Yes.”
“ Don’t be embarrassed by your station, Jerry. This is the way it’s been done throughout the ages. A man gathers wealth. A woman refines it.”
“ I never thought of it that way.” He used to hand over his paycheck to Chelsea. Was that the same thing?
“ May I give you some advice?” She pressed her fingertips together, like a divining rod seeking water. She aimed in his direction. “Lose the suit. It’s decades past style.”
His face flushed. Ruiz was forthright and determined. She’d make the tough decisions for him. He was relieved.
“ The things we discuss here, never leave this office,” she said. “I can arrange for you to meet a tailor. He’s excellent. And perhaps a stylist too?”
“ Please.”
“ I’ve put aside some profiles.” She gave him a reassuring glance. “I have many clients in my repertoire, but I’m thinking of one in particular.”
She handed him a thin black binder with a client number on top. “I’ve already spoken to her. She’s interested.”
Jerry placed the binder in his lap, not wanting to seem overanxious, but he differed from no other man on the planet. He hoped for a picture. That was the first thing.
“ She didn’t need to see a video of you,” Ruiz continued, “but now that I’ve seen you in person, I notice that you’re a tall, earthy, and robust man. You are not unattractive, which is a plus. My client won’t be displeased.”
“ Why didn’t she want to see me?”
“ At this financial level, women are not necessarily interested in a man’s natural appearance.”
Jerry opened the binder to a glossy color photograph and a few pages of personal details.
Carmen Ruiz came alongside. “She’s twenty-nine years old, the daughter of an investment banker from the Netherlands. She’s been around the world.”
“ She likes to travel?”
“ She’s ready to settle down. Her name is Scarlett Hydell.”
Jerry called for the valet at the Hyatt to bring his car around. At Ms. Ruiz’s behest, he’d rented a Porsche 912—red with a convertible roof. He plucked his new silk sport coat off the chair and headed for the penthouse door.
Cortez rolled over on the carpet in a patch of sun. The big dog looked heavy and tired. He moaned. His dark eyes focused on nothing in particular. He missed the open space on the farm.
“ See ya, old boy,” Jerry said and shut the door.
The air outside the hotel was typical New Jersey summer sticky. Jerry tossed the valet five dollars and ducked into the Porsche to let the air-conditioning blast his head. He was nervous enough about his date with Scarlett. He didn’t need to arrive at her doorstep with a sweaty face.
He drove to Lawrenceville and up the long drive to the Hydell estate. The house was a stone mansion set beyond view of the main road, and just beyond the barns and greenhouses, several horses gathered beneath the shade of mature ash trees. It impressed Jerry how the rich hid sprawling properties among the regular citizens. He felt as if he should be manning the old pickup truck, with the pitchfork in back and the stink of manure about his boots. A man like
Jerry took a breath, submitting himself to the interview process. He’d discovered Ms. Ruiz’s matching service in the yellow pages. He noticed her accent over the phone, but in person, he thought that she dressed like a former first lady. Her short black hair shaped her head, and she wore a deep red suit with a contrasting black collar. A diamond stickpin of a heart glimmered upon her chest.
“ May I call you by your first name?” She asked.
“ Yes.”
“ Don’t be embarrassed by your station, Jerry. This is the way it’s been done throughout the ages. A man gathers wealth. A woman refines it.”
“ I never thought of it that way.” He used to hand over his paycheck to Chelsea. Was that the same thing?
“ May I give you some advice?” She pressed her fingertips together, like a divining rod seeking water. She aimed in his direction. “Lose the suit. It’s decades past style.”
His face flushed. Ruiz was forthright and determined. She’d make the tough decisions for him. He was relieved.
“ The things we discuss here, never leave this office,” she said. “I can arrange for you to meet a tailor. He’s excellent. And perhaps a stylist too?”
“ Please.”
“ I’ve put aside some profiles.” She gave him a reassuring glance. “I have many clients in my repertoire, but I’m thinking of one in particular.”
She handed him a thin black binder with a client number on top. “I’ve already spoken to her. She’s interested.”
Jerry placed the binder in his lap, not wanting to seem overanxious, but he differed from no other man on the planet. He hoped for a picture. That was the first thing.
“ She didn’t need to see a video of you,” Ruiz continued, “but now that I’ve seen you in person, I notice that you’re a tall, earthy, and robust man. You are not unattractive, which is a plus. My client won’t be displeased.”
“ Why didn’t she want to see me?”
“ At this financial level, women are not necessarily interested in a man’s natural appearance.”
Jerry opened the binder to a glossy color photograph and a few pages of personal details.
Carmen Ruiz came alongside. “She’s twenty-nine years old, the daughter of an investment banker from the Netherlands. She’s been around the world.”
“ She likes to travel?”
“ She’s ready to settle down. Her name is Scarlett Hydell.”
Jerry called for the valet at the Hyatt to bring his car around. At Ms. Ruiz’s behest, he’d rented a Porsche 912—red with a convertible roof. He plucked his new silk sport coat off the chair and headed for the penthouse door.
Cortez rolled over on the carpet in a patch of sun. The big dog looked heavy and tired. He moaned. His dark eyes focused on nothing in particular. He missed the open space on the farm.
“ See ya, old boy,” Jerry said and shut the door.
The air outside the hotel was typical New Jersey summer sticky. Jerry tossed the valet five dollars and ducked into the Porsche to let the air-conditioning blast his head. He was nervous enough about his date with Scarlett. He didn’t need to arrive at her doorstep with a sweaty face.
He drove to Lawrenceville and up the long drive to the Hydell estate. The house was a stone mansion set beyond view of the main road, and just beyond the barns and greenhouses, several horses gathered beneath the shade of mature ash trees. It impressed Jerry how the rich hid sprawling properties among the regular citizens. He felt as if he should be manning the old pickup truck, with the pitchfork in back and the stink of manure about his boots. A man like
Similar Books
